


Harbingers

by stanground



Category: South Park
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanground/pseuds/stanground
Summary: If he were asked, Butters wouldn’t be able to name the first ghost he saw. He has a gift, and when he sees the dead, he makes damn sure he does something about it. Hell is about to break loose in South Park, and Butters is about to learn a dire lesson: death can only be cheated so many times.//Odd Thomas AU!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this for a long time, but I did not proofread this. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, have fun, and have a great day!

If he were asked, Butters wouldn’t be able to name the first ghost he saw. He would, however, be able to name the last one he remembered his mother talking to before she was taken to the local nut house. Betsy Donovan had been a friend of hers for many years, in fact, Butters had Mrs. Donovan to thank for helping him realize he shared the same abilities as his mother. They got home from the funeral and that’s when his father found Mrs. Stotch in the backyard trying to convince Betsy that Clyde had learned his lesson, and losing her was punishment enough for his mistake. As if there wasn’t enough loss that day. Seeing his mother being dragged off, screaming and sobbing, swearing even then that her abilities were a gift, it was encouragement enough to keep his own gift a secret. Some days though, he still wondered how many of his mother’s friends were among the living, and how many were lost transients searching for resolution. 

Except in very specific, special circumstances, the dead did not speak. Whether it was by choice or otherwise, Butters couldn’t tell you; despite this, they found their own ways to communicate. He vividly remembered the first time he had a vision from a spirit, it was a second grader named Claire Roberts, she had been on the milk cartons for months at that point and the town had all but forgotten she ever existed. He saw her first outside City Hall on a night not long after Betsy Donovan’s death, he snuck out of the house and just wandered, he found that aimless walking to be one of his most healthy and effective coping mechanisms. 

“N-Now hey there, Miss, it’s awful late, a-and you should be running home!” Butters stammered as he approached the blonde. As soon as she turned around, his eyes widened, he knew her face right away. 

“C-Claire? Oh gee, everyone’s been looking for you! W-well come on, I’m sure your parents are worried sick!” He beckoned her over with a giddy laugh. “I found the missing girl! Whoopee!” He rejoiced before he realized that there were no footsteps behind him. 

“W-well what’s wrong, Claire? Don’t you wanna see your folks again?” She just looked at him with a woeful gaze. Claire made her way over to him and put a gentle hand on his cheek.

The scene played behind his eyelids like a waking nightmare. He could hear her shriek as she bolted down the hiking trail at Stark’s pond, loud, thundering footsteps hot on her tail. Butters could have sworn it was his own leg that he felt shatter as he descended into the lake, the icy water enveloping him as he looked up to see the moonlight beaming through the water’s surface. The beauty was soon eclipsed as a hand reached in and grabbed Claire by the wrist and drug her from the muck, saving her life if only to have the satisfaction of ripping it from her with his own hands. Once it was finally over, Butters collapsed on the stairs of the marble stairs of the government building and curled up in the fetal position, sobbing shamelessly into his knees. 

Later that night, he called the police and gave them an anonymous tip on where to find the body. It was that very moment where he also decided to hang up the foil and cloak and permanently retire his villainous alter ego, Professor Chaos. The world was filled with enough evil, and the most sickening villains don’t always wear costumes. 

* * *

It had been over a decade since that fated night, Butters had since become the vigilante ghost whisperer for his small mountain town. Only a handful of people knew of his abilities, and luckily, they worked in all the right places. So when Michael Hallstrom showed up at his doorstep, wearing his urgent desperation on his face, Butters was able to do exactly what was necessary. He speed-walked down the stairs of his meager loft in the formerly luxurious SoDoSoPa and chased after Michael who was eagerly beckoning him to follow. Michael had only been missing for less than a week, but it was already too late for him. Butters could only guess, but it appeared that some sick bastard had beat in the child’s head with a tire iron. He finally caught up to the pudgy child at a stop sign where a familiar vehicle seemed to be pulling up, a beat-up old cadillac whose paint was chipping and windows all seemed to be some degree of cracked.

“Scott Tenorman?” Butters asked, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t seen him since he was sent to foster care over ten years ago. The redhead rolled down the window. 

“Hey, you’re the Stotch kid, right?” He asked, giving a fake tone of politeness. 

“Y-yeah, long time no see! What brings you to South Park?” He crossed his arms, smiling brightly. 

“Just visiting the cemetery, I come around every year.” Scott explained, a somber expression on his face.

“Do you also kill an innocent kid when you visit?” Butters asked quietly. 

“Ha..What- What are you talking about? You’re kind of weird, Stotch.” Scott brushed off nervously. 

“You put him in your trunk, Scott.. You thought he was Eric Cartman’s son, but you were wrong.” Butters felt his voice quiver, Michael showed him everything he needed to see, Scott was stupid enough to assume that the only chubby kid in the small town must belong to the person responsible for killing his parents. In the blink of an eye, Scott opened his car door in an attempt to knock Butters down and out of the way. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

The blonde dashed forth, chasing down the red-headed bastard down the street and into the yard of the old Cartman residence. If Michael was right, his death was only just the beginning of Scott’s revenge plot. Butters tackled him, giving his best warcry to alert the now elderly Mrs. Cartman inside the house. Just as he hoped, Liane grabbed the phone and hid in the linen closet, alerting the authorities of the altercation occurring in her yard. 

“Just stop! The police are on their way!” Butters cried as he grabbed a stick and took a swing at Scott’s crotch in an attempt to incapacitate him. Scott grabbed a nearby gnome and bashed it over Butters’ head, shattering the lawn ornament to pieces. Butters vision went black for a moment, his head reeling in agony at the site of the impact, but he couldn’t back down now. He managed to stay on his feet and leaped with a shout, tackling Scott to the ground, if he could keep him there long enough, the police were going to arrive any moment. 

By the grace of God, the sound of sirens wailing grew louder as the patrol car flew down the street. 

“Hands in the air, Scott!” The all-too-familiar voice of the chief of police barked; Stan Marsh arrived, just in time to save Butters’ ass, as always.  

Soon enough, backup arrived, consisting of Clyde Donovan and Craig Tucker. It bothered Craig to no end that he had to work under Stan, but hopefully, he’d end up at Quantico by the end of the month. Scott was in silver bracelets in the blink of an eye, and Stan gave a heavy sigh as he sat down next to Butters. 

“You broke the fence, Butters.” He said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated by his antics once again.

“H-hey now, that was all him. I did pretty good on property damage this time.” Butters said defensively, crossing his arms. His whole body was aching already, but it was all worth it. 

“Listen, we’ve got some trouble with this one. You said the body’s in the trunk, right?” Stan asked in a quiet tone.

“Well yeah, so is the tire iron.” Butters affirmed. 

“Great, but we can’t get in there. The guy may be a bastard, but he’s got rights. Can you tell me anything that would give me probable cause so I can search the vehicle?” he asked. 

“I-I don’t-” He was getting flustered. They would run into this issue just about every time Butters went rogue and ran someone down, it was rare, but a pain in the ass nonetheless. 

“Here, talk to Kyle, maybe he can come up with something, I’ll go see if I can get him to give us consent. It’s a long shot but we’ll see.” Stan pulled out his phone and dialed the District Attorney’s number. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Kyle asked on the other end. 

“Hey dude, I’m probably not going to make it to our lunch date.” Stan sighed.

“Butters?” 

“Butters.” Stan confirmed. 

“Let me talk to him, I’ll see what we can pull for now.” Kyle was already exhausted from this, but no one could blame Butters, he was good. Stan handed the phone over to Butters.

“Hey Kyle…” He said, his tone matching that of a child who’s just been scolded. 

“Hi Butters. What happened this time?” Kyle asked. Butters could hear him taking out a pen and paper on the other side of the line. 

“He killed Michael Hallstrom, last night. He was on his way to dump him, but he was going to do it again, and soon.” Butters pleaded. 

“Well all we can charge him with is assault for right now, but that’s not enough for a search warrant. Here’s what you’re going to say, you were distraught over Michael because you were a family friend.You ran into Scott and he was going to give you a card for the grief counselor he’s been seeing because she’s really good and he thought you could use her help. When he pulled out his wallet, you noticed a picture of Michael, when you asked about it, he got spooked and bolted. Got it?” Kyle knew the drill, he would normally never frame someone intentionally, but if they were guilty, he was not going to let them get away with it by any means necessary. 

“But there wasn’t-” 

“How many times have we been over this? We’ve got it covered, just stick with that story and we’ll handle the rest. Did you call Kenny yet?” He asked.

“Not yet, I’ll give him a call now though and give him the information.” Butters replied, defeat heavy in his tone. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll call him. Oh, and hey, Butters?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Good job out there. You’re saving lives.” He said warmth in his voice. Butters couldn’t help but smile. 

“Oh gee, thanks Kyle.” Butters said with a grin. 

“Anytime, Butters. Put me back with Stan, he’ll give you a ride back to your place, alright?” 

“Oh sure!” As if he heard it himself, Stan was making his way back over to Butters. 

“Everything good?” Stan asked as he took back the cellphone. 

Michael was standing next to Butters, looking completely well with no trace of the wound on his forehead. Butters just smiled at him, and Michael returned the gesture with a nod of his head. He’d never seen the other side before, but he could tell by the look on Michael’s face that there was something beautiful waiting for him. 

“Go on, little buddy. He’s not gonna hurt anyone else.” He reassured the child, holding back the tears in his eyes. Michael slowly disappeared as he walked forward into what Butters could only assume was the light. 

“Come on, let’s get you back home.” Stan brought him back to reality when putting his hand on Butters’ shoulder.

* * *

 

Kenny came back home three hours later and flopped down on the couch, utterly exhausted. 

“H-Hey there, Ken.” He greeted sheepishly as he came into the living area.

“Hi Butters.” Kenny opened his eyes and grinned, patting the spot next to him for Butters to occupy. “Long morning, huh?” 

“Yeah, I bet yours was worse though. Did you end up having to go and plant stuff in Scott’s car?” Butters asked. To this, Kenny nodded. 

“That guy is fucked up, dude. He had all his plans on paper in his glove compartment, the dumbass thought that the kid was Cartman’s just because he was the only fat child in South Park, how ignorant is that?” Kenny shook his head. 

Butters was used to it by this point, he got to see the resolution, he got to witness the children move forward and have the closure they need. Kenny, however, he just saw the filth, and his job was to make it even filthier and shed light on all the gruesome shit they’re hiding. It broke Butters’ heart. Regardless though, there was nothing that Kenny would rather be doing than helping to put away the monsters haunting the streets of his town. It weighed on Kenny, getting heavier and heavier with each passing day, but with Butters at his side, his bones grew stronger, and he felt there was nothing he couldn’t carry. The two spent hours on that couch, the TV off, just talking about nonsense until that trailed off into comfortable silence, slowly lulling them to sleep. 

 

> _“HELP ME!”_
> 
> _“GOD, IT BURNS!”_
> 
> _“MOM?! MOM, I CAN’T SEE!”_
> 
> _“BUTTERS!”_
> 
> _“Coming up next on ABC…”_
> 
> _“NO! PLEASE, I HAVE A FAMILY-”_
> 
> _Butters was frantically stumbling, slipping recklessly on what felt like wet linoleum. He couldn’t see anything, it was pitch black with the exception of the occasional flash of red, white, and blue. The screams were deafening, and yet, they wouldn’t stop. It was a cry, click, then another cry, over and over and over again._
> 
> _“What is your name?!” Butters yelped when he felt the touch of cotton beneath his fingertips._
> 
> _“Help, oh god, where- where is she?” The voice was mangled and muffled, he didn’t recognize it at all._
> 
> _“Where is who? Where is who?!” Butters was frantically grabbing at the man attached to the shirt, trying to get some kind of context of the massacre._
> 
> _“Butters!” Kenny called out to him, Butters heart stopped._
> 
> _“KENNY!”_

He woke in a cold sweat, Kenny holding his face in his hands with a panicked look in his eyes. 

“It’s me! It’s me, you’re safe.” Kenny reassured him as he pulled him into his exposed chest, petting his undercut comfortingly. 

“Kenny, oh god.” Butters’ breath was short, he tried his best to deeply inhale the scent of his long-term boyfriend. 

“It was a nightmare, I’m here, you’re safe.” Kenny whispered, rubbing his back. 

“Kenny… Something bad is coming our way…” He gulped. “Something real bad…” 


	2. Chapter 2

“GAAAAAAH!” 

Craig was right, getting an alarm clock was definitely a waste of money. 

“Good morning, Tweek.” He mumbled dryly as he turned over to face the blonde in his bed. The pair had been living together for a little over a year by that point, and to say it was easy would be nothing but a blatant lie. 

“C-Craig, you’ll never believe-” Tweek stammered, his voice in it’s signature panicked tone. 

“Were you checking the news again? Tweek, I told you to stop that, all the media does anymore is fearmonger for shock appeal, it’s not good for you.” Craig sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily. 

“N-No, Craig, i-it wasn’t the news this time.” Tweek insisted, tugging at his hair anxiously. “It was a nightmare, oh God-” 

“Calm down, Tweek, tell me what happened.” He put his arm around his twitching boyfriend, Craig didn’t dare look at the clock, the last thing Tweek needed was some early morning resentment from him. 

“D-Don’t tell me to calm down!!” He cried before sinking into Craig’s chest, clutching his linen pajama top like his very life depended on it. “Oh god, it was awful. It felt like there was a ringing in my ears, just static-”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just your tinnitus acting up again?” 

“YES, CRAIG, I’M SURE!” He shrieked, swatting at Craig’s chest. “I turned and I saw all these people covered in grease o-or blood or something and then I turn and I see myself, oh god, I was shot, o-or something, there was glass sticking out of my face, man!” 

Craig gave his shoulder a squeeze. “There, there, it’s all over now.” He reassured him comfortingly before daring to ask the dreaded question, “What time is it?” 

“Gah, I- I don’t know!” Tweek stammered. Craig looked over at the red number four on their bedside alarm clock and in that moment, he could have sworn that it was the cruelest offense he had ever suffered.

* * *

 

Eighteen years ago, Randy Marsh invested ten grand into what the Marsh family considered to be the absolute stupidest business venture anyone could have possibly come up with: his own Blockbuster. Even after the place had burned down and they surrendered ownership to keep their family afloat, he somehow managed to screw them all over even more by using the insurance money to buy it back. This, of course, caused the brief separation between him and his wife, Sharon, but to this day the couple still swears that it was Stan who was responsible. Then later, after his TV show, White People Renovating Houses, ultimately failed, rebuilding and renovating the old video store became his obsession, or as he liked to call it, his “passion project”. Within a year, Fraiche and Easy had its grand opening, and Randy’s little dream diner turned into his own golden ticket to financial stability and comfortable early retirement. 

Butters was happily employed as the diner’s resident fry cook. He picked up the lingo in the blink of an eye, and the kid turned flipping pancakes and patties into an art behind the kitchen bar. Every morning, Fraiche and Easy was jam packed with customers, most of which being the town’s police force. He liked to crack jokes about how it was their right to a balanced and speedy breakfast, and depending on whether or not they had downed enough of their coffee, some actually got a kick out of it. 

“Heart attack on a rack, flop two and wreck ‘em in the alley!” Heidi called from a table, jotting the order down on her little notepad. 

“Coming up!” Butters called from behind the counter. Biscuits and gravy with a side of scrambled eggs, a meal fit for a truly colossal hangover. 

Stan was reading through the newspaper at his usual seat at the counter beside Clyde who was arguing with his fiance on the phone over what he could only assume was the most minute of wedding details. 

“Morning, guys.” Craig emerged from the chaos of the crowd and plopped down onto the stool on the other side of Stan.

“You look fucking exhausted, dude.” He muttered, folding the paper and setting it beside his plate. 

“You don’t know the half of it. Tweek wakes me up almost every morning with some kind of paranoid freak out but usually he lets me go back to sleep for at least an hour after.” Craig groaned as he grabbed the mug Butters slid over to him. 

“I don’t know how you do it, if I were woken up like that even once, I’d be totally out of commission for the whole rest of the day.” Stan clicked his tongue with a shake of his head as he took a sip of his own coffee. 

“Yeah, you get used to it after a while, but this time he insisted I stay up and help him find some kind of psychic that he could talk to.” Craig rubbed his eyes in either exhaustion or annoyance, probably some mixture of the two.

“A psychic?” Butters chimed in from behind the grill facing them. 

“Yeah, he’s really freaked out about this dream he had about some kind of terrorist attack or something. He said he didn’t, but he probably caught an episode of 24 or something and that sent him into a paranoid meltdown.” Craig grumbled. 

“Oh yeah, TV shows these days are chalked full of gore and smut, it’s just awful what these networks will do for ratings.” Stan agreed.

“Tell me about it, I guess what got him though was that he dreamed he was a victim and he was pretty messed up.” At this, Butters paused, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Wait, he saw himself? In his dream?” He asked carefully, trying to act as casual about it as possible.

“Yeah, he said he got a face full of glass, it really freaked him out, he was inconsolable.” Craig shook his head and chugged half of his cup in record time. 

Before Butters could get into it, the bell by the door rang and in walked his own parka-clad dreamboat, flashing a gap-toothed grin his way. Kenny strutted over to the counter and spun in his own stool at the counter. 

“Hey, guys.” He greeted happily. 

“Morning, Kenny.” Stan responded before picking his newspaper back up and returning to his story.

“What’s for breakfast, buttercup?” Kenny leaned forward on the counter, batting his eyes at Butters in what seemed to be an attempt at satirical flirting. 

“Family reunion with frog sticks and some frosty joe.” Butters slid the iced coffee Kenny’s way. He caught it without trouble but wrinkled his nose as he looked down at it. 

“Since when do I get iced coffee?” He asked, sniffing at it like it was some kind of foreign delicacy. 

“W-well I had that whole ‘f’ thing going on, it- just try it, you’ll like it!” Butters stammered as he cracked the egg on the grill and got to work on prepping the fries. Kenny took a timid sip and shrugged.

“Not bad. Hey have you guys tried this?” He turned to the officers sitting beside him. 

Butters was distracted by what seemed to have just phased through the door: a grotesque mass of translucent limbs and tendons, arms made of what looked like some hybrid of branch and bone, the black orb at its core seemed to emit some kind of smoke making the creature’s form visible to him. Butters’ stomach reeled. Bodachs, as he coined them, were omens of massive devastation; they craved chaos, thirsted for blood, and only the most horrible disasters could whet their appetite. Even Claire’s death, which was precursed with torture, mutilation and violation, did not attract a single one of these monsters. He was less than comfortable as he watched the mass crawl across the diner’s floor and onto the tables, sniffing at every patron like a blind, hungry dog. It turned slowly and wriggled over to the counter, balancing itself on the grill. Butters knew better than to look directly at it, he just tasked himself with trying his best to pretend it wasn’t there; bodachs didn’t take kindly to those who could see them. 

“Butters?” Kenny jerked his attention back to the conversation.

“Oh, sorry!” The blonde scrambled to get the fries out of the oil and plate them as quickly as he could, luckily, it wasn’t too late. 

“You good?” Stan asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, just got a little distracted there, oh-” The orb was inches from his face and Butters reached right through to grab the plate, praying his momentary lapse went unnoticed, “Order up!” He called as he reached out and tapped the bell on the counter. Heidi came and grabbed the plate, bringing it over to the table. Kenny pulled his plate over to himself, licking his lips in anticipation. 

“Is this new?” He asked, bringing the sandwich to his mouth.

“Believe it or not, it’s an old Fraiche and Easy classic.” He laughed nervously as the bodach moved to sniff at Stan. 

It felt like an eternity watching the thing curiously check out every customer in the diner, Butters could only pray that it was some kind of fluke that it showed up to begin with. After finishing his meal, Kenny finally stood up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Alright, I gotta get to work, someone’s gotta tend to the day drunks before they try to do it themselves.” He stretched and winked over at Butters, leaving a few dollars on the table before heading to the door. Butters watched in panic as the bodach loomed over him, following him to the exit. 

“KENNY WAIT!” He shouted, his heart pounding in his chest. At that moment, a man shoulder checked Kenny and stomped over to the counter facing the wall; the creature found him far more desirable and detached itself from Kenny. Butters breathed a sigh of relief and met Kenny’s startled gaze. 

“H-Have a good day!” He waved and laughed nervously. 

Just as Kenny left, Butters gulped, the man made him uneasy. To start, he walked with a subtle limp, his hair was greasy, his tongue stuck out ever-so-slightly, and he seemed to be wearing ill-fitting clothes that could only be kindly described as “business casual”, but beyond his physical appearance, he seemed to have an entourage of at least a dozen bodachs. 

The fry cook was certain; this man was bad for business. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, comments and validation are my life force! 
> 
> I'm really excited to continue this story, I'll probably be doing weekly updates from here on. If there's anyone or anything (or any couple) you'd like to see more of, please let me know and I'll be more than happy to accommodate!


	3. Chapter 3

Butters’ gift went well beyond being able to see spirits and freaky centipede demon monsters; one of these bonus perks was “psychic magnetism”, as Kenny coined it. Basically, he found that he could just start wandering aimlessly and at some point, he’d come across whatever, or in this case, whoever he wanted to find. Once his shift was over at Fraiche and Easy, he took off on his own little sleuthing mission to track down the creepy guy from the diner that morning. He had a gut feeling that whoever this guy was, he wasn’t planning on leaving town for awhile, which unfortunately meant that his entourage probably wasn’t either.

No more than ten minutes in, he caught his first glimpse of the target. The man was stopping over at their local ice cream parlour, the hoard of bodachs still swarming around him. He estimated that the number had doubled in size since he first saw him four hours ago, he could feel his anxiety growing at an even faster rate than the bodach population following the man. Butters reached for his phone and called Stan, if only to ease his nerves.

“Hey Butters, got something for me?” Stan asked.

“Hey, I think I do. Do you remember that guy from the diner this morning, the one that looked kind of greasy, he had a lisp?” Butters was watching him purchase about three gallon-sized tubs of vanilla ice cream.

“Yeah, I remember him. He didn’t seem suspicious to me though, maybe unfortunate, but not dangerous.” Stan remarked, chuckling to himself.

“Well, sir, you didn’t have the pleasure of meeting his fan club.” He muttered. “He’s bad news, Stan, these things that are following him, they’re called bodachs and they feed off of chaos.” Butters explained, the man was exiting the parlor and he felt his heart tighten in his chest. “With the number of them following that guy, Stan, I’m certain that he’s going to do something big, we have to stop it.”

“And you’re sure about this?” He asked as he clicked his pen.

“Positive. I think South Park might be facing some kind of apocalypse if we don’t do something.” Butters warned, but something wasn’t right; the man was now alone.

“Well before we can do anything, we need an ID, I can’t exactly tell my guys to look for a guy that just looks creepy.”

“Give me an hour.” Butters confirmed and hung up the phone. The man had gotten into his car and pulled onto the road. Butters followed, from a reasonable distance, of course, so as to avoid raising suspicion. He couldn’t figure it out, since that morning that person had been attracting bodachs like flies to honey, and suddenly they had just seemed to lose interest for no discernable reason. While the amatuer psychic detective definitely wouldn’t call himself an expert on the devilish species, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: bodachs never made mistakes.

Butters was grateful that Kenny left him the motorbike, the walk to Greasy Guy’s shack outside of town would have been utterly brutal. Speaking of Kenny, he completely forgot he was supposed to stop by Skeeters after his shift; he picked up the phone and hit speed-dial 2.

“This might be Kenny.” He answered. The greeting always roused a laugh from Butters.

“Hey maybe Kenny, it might be Butters.” He replied as he pulled over behind a bush a few hundred feet from the house.

“Oh please, everyone _knows_ it’s Butters.” Kenny replied, Butters could hear the grin in his voice.

“What if I told you it’s actually Kyle?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s not Butters.” He quipped with a gasp of faux surprise. Butters snorted. “Alright, I give. Fill me in.” Kenny chuckled to himself.

“You remember the guy that bumped you at breakfast?” Butters asked, keeping his eyes locked on the humble abode.

“Fondly, actually. He still hasn’t called me, I’m beginning to think he might not be that into me after all. Why? Did he come with company?” Kenny lamented with an exaggerated sigh.

“Well he seems to be taking it pretty hard too, the guy got three tubs of ice cream just for himself. But yeah, and not the friendly type either. He had a whole mess of bodachs on his tail, more than I’d ever seen.” Butters watched as the man hobbled out of the house and returned to his waiting junker of a car.

“Wait, have you been following him?” Kenny’s tone shifted, “Butters, I’ve got a bad feeling about that guy, just come to the bar, where are you now?”

“You’re not going to like the answer.” Butters admitted as he started jogging over to the house.

“Butters, if you get yourself hurt, I swear I will-”

“Don’t worry, Ken, I’m at his house now, he just left.” Butters jumped the chain link fence at the boundary of the property.

“I still think this is a bad idea, Leopold.” Kenny pulled out the real name, a nagging guilt tugged at Butters’ heartstrings.

“I’ll be fine, Kenny. Here, I’ll even take you out to dinner tonight to make up for making you worry.” He assured him.

“You better.” He gave in and started pouring a drink for himself.

“Promise. I’ll see you in a couple hours, this shouldn’t take too long. Stan said I just needed to get an ID, I’ll be in and out in no time, easy peasy.” Butters said as he tiptoed over to the back door and began trying to jimmy it open.

“Oh no, you’re not hanging up, if you’re going into some kind of disgusting murder house, I’m gonna know every detail, god dammit.” Kenny was acting casual, but Butters knew better than that; he was a nervous wreck.

“Alright, you got it.”

Butters managed to pop open the door and right away a repulsive stench wafted out and assaulted his nose; it was some kind of mix of rotten mexican food and animal feces and he could barely stop himself from gagging. Inside the sad excuse of a house, there were various cages of what looked to be starved pets and piles upon piles of varied forms of garbage. Amongst the mess was a crate with a large warning label that read, “CAUTION! LIVE VENOMOUS REPTILES”, a threat confirmed as one of the snakes emitted a startling hiss from inside. In the corner of what Butters assumed was the living room, he found a modest desk beside a filing cabinet, the drawers stuffed so full it seemed they were unable to close.

“You still there?” Kenny asked, concerned with the unsettlingly lengthy silence.

“O-oh yeah, sorry, there’s just.. Dang Kenny, this place is awful.” He muttered.

“I can’t imagine the home of anyone hoarding a bunch of slithering evil spirits would be terribly luxurious.” He quipped as a customer came up and ordered a round of shots for himself and the other four people in his head. Ah, Kenny loved the day shift.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Butters mumbled as he started sifting through the piles of mail on the desk.

“Paint me a word picture.” Kenny said.

“Imagine if Hoarders did a special on serial killers.” He mumbled. All the letters were addressed to one Scott Malkinson, which for some reason sounded familiar.

“Did you check the fridge for severed heads?”

“No, I haven’t gotten to the kitchen yet.”

“Well where else would you find severed heads?” Kenny asked incredulously.

“I wasn’t really looking for any.” He muttered. “Hey, do you know a Scott Malkinson?”

“Yeah, we went to school with him, is Captain Diabetes South Park’s next serial killer?” His interests were piqued to the point it seemed to outweigh his concern.

“Maybe.” Butters paused. “Wait, why would a diabetic need three gallons of ice cream?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Hm… I’m gonna call Stan and let him know what I found, I’ll call you once I get back home, alright?”

“Fine, you’re off the hook this time. Stay safe and get out of there alive, remember, I can’t see the dead.”

“You got it. Love you.” Butters hung up and moved on to the filing cabinet.

The place was some kind of sick fanatical shrine to the most twisted and renowned serial killers of all time. He idolized these monsters, and after thumbing through just a few files in the drawer, it became clear that he sought to earn his place in history amongst them. The file labeled with Scott Malkinson’s name didn’t contain any kind of confessions or perverse manifestos; the only thing in the file was a save-the-date card for their 10-year high school reunion. Whatever Scott was planning was coming in the next 36 hours.

Butters could hear a vehicle nearing the house, he was out of time. He dashed through the backdoor and by some miracle, he jumped the fence and returned to the waiting motorbike undetected by the unexpected guest.

 

Butters made it to the police station in record time and just as he entered the threshold, he quite literally ran right into Stan, sending Butters to the floor.

“Base?” Stan remarked, furrowing his brow at Butters’ disheveled appearance. Butters played along, wiping the sweat from his head before he rose his fist in victory and nodded. “So I take it you got the ID of your creepy guy.”

“Scott Malkinson.” Butters confirmed, his breathing finally settling back to normal as Stan held out a hand to help him up.

“Scott Malkinson, how do I know that name?” Stan asked as he grabbed his jacket.

“He went to school with us, he was the one with diabetes that Cartman forced into hiding with verbal abuse after 8th grade.” Butters told him as he followed the chief out into the parking lot.

“Oh right, that guy. Didn’t he move away after that?” Stan took out his keys and clicked the button to unlock the car.

“Evidently not, he got invited to the reunion.” Butters was right on his heels and once Stan opened the car door, he grabbed onto the top.

“Alright, I’ll have Craig run a DMV check on him, see if we can find any reason to bring him in.” Stan ducked into the driver’s seat, “In the meantime, just sit tight.”

“Why are you in such a hurry anyway?” Butters asked, still in a state of minor panic.

“It’s date night, Butters, and if I’m late to get Kyle, I’ll never hear the end of it. So if you could just..” He looked over at his hands still tightly clutching the door.

“Sorry. Oh, but Stan, before you go…” He released the door and Stan let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes?”

“Tell Kyle I said hi.” He said with a wave as Stan shut the door and drove off.

Just as Butters was walking back over to the motorcycle, he spotted an unmistakable twitching blonde walking into the station. Tweek must have been coming to visit Craig after his appointment with the psychic. As much as he wanted to stop in and snoop around some more, he realized the sky was quickly darkening and he had a date night of his own to get to. Kenny’s timing was impeccable; as soon as Butters reached for his phone to call, it began ringing and lit up with a picture of Kenny’s comically unappealing sleeping face.

“Hey Ken.” He greeted.

“Ah so you’re alive, I see.” Kenny mused from the other end.

“Oh geez, I’m sorry, I forgot to call you back. I’m at the police station with your bike, I’ll be right there to get you.” Butters’ said apologetically.

“Butters, I don’t know if I can forgive such a terrible offence, I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to make up for this. How am I ever going to trust again?” He sighed, clearly joking around as usual.

“Well, what if we took date night over to the abandoned church?” Butters asked meekly. Kenny went silent. “H-hello?”

“Y-yeah I’m here. That sounds great, don’t worry about coming to get me though, the bus is literally right in front of me, I can just go there for now and you can meet me.” Kenny didn’t even bother trying to mask his excitement, a few pedestrians couldn’t help but stare as he busted into his own little shameless happy dance.

“Are you sure? I mean I need to go home first and shower and-” He babbled anxiously and Kenny chuckled.

“Take your time, Buttercup, I’m a patient man.” He replied warmly before hanging up the phone.  

* * *

 

Butters took a lot of pride in knowing that he loved Kenny first. Even when they were in fourth grade and he hadn’t even learned yet what it meant to be in love, he loved that crazy kid in the orange parka. There was a time around their freshman year of high school that he actively avoided thinking, speaking, or even acknowledging the existence of his ten-year-old self out of utterly nauseating embarrassment, but that phase didn’t last long. As a teenager, Butters was quick to learn that when it comes to relationships, compatibility is worthless without perfect timing, Stan and Wendy were evidence enough for that, but it wasn’t until junior year that Butters was completely convinced.

His first date with Kenny was surreal. They started off in Historic CtPaTown, Kenny was old-fashioned, and since he made the first move, he insisted on paying for everything despite the fact that he lived in absolute poverty. Luckily, since he worked in City Wok, he had a great discount and both their meals only cost him a few hours of manual labor later that week. For hours they sat in a rusted, squeaky booth just laughing and learning all they could about the people they had grown to become. The whole night Butters gave silent thanks and apology to that dorky version of himself he previously cursed and despised. He was constantly finding new reasons to be grateful that ten-year-old Butters effectively ruined his chances of getting closer to Kenny time and time again, to thank that little shit for every horrible, stupid, and utterly cringe-worthy thing that came out of his mouth and made him wish that he could just hide in a corner and disappear forever. Butters was certain in that moment, sitting at that booth that would squeak like a fart whenever either dared to move a muscle, that he had finally made it.

They stayed until closing, and Kenny was terrified that he was falling behind schedule. He knew what kind of wrath Butters would face if he missed his curfew, and despite how desperate he was to keep their momentum, he couldn’t knowingly subject him to it.

“Hey Ken?” Butters reached out and grabbed his hand timidly.

“We should get you home, it’s really late and your curfew-” Kenny babbled as he started dragging his date off in the direction of his home.

“Kenny, stop!” Kenny froze obediently and slowly turned to face him, terrified that he just ruined the whole night. Noticing the fear in his eyes, Butters expression softened and he put his hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “I live a majority of my life being grounded, one way or another I’ll probably be locked up for a while after this so if you don’t mind, I’d like to take advantage of my freedom while I can.” Butters offered, biting his lip anxiously.

“How would you feel about taking a little road trip?” Kenny asked excitedly, his eyes beaming with excitement over the new possibilities.

“R-road trip? Well, geez, Ken, I mean, I should probably get back home tonight at some point, I just meant-” He withdrew his hand and started rubbing his knuckles together, his signature nervous tick. Kenny reached out and grabbed both his hands in his.

“It’ll be really short, the place is right outside of town, and I’ll have you back by midnight. I promise.” He was giving his very best pout, and if it didn’t work, Kenny would not be above resorting to begging. Luckily, Butters couldn’t resist the charms of his boyhood crush.

“Oh alright, what the heck!” He agreed with a giddy laugh.

Kenny’s eyes lit up and he reflexively held his hand up for a high five, an action he immediately regretted. Butters expression dropped ever so slightly, his mind buzzing with all the different ways he could have misinterpreted their interactions and wondering if he had been under the wrong impression in assuming that this was a date. Kenny quickly tried to correct it by dropping his hand to the back of Butters’ neck, trying to pass it off as his initial intention.

“Y-you are not going to regret this.” He assured him, praying to whatever deity was listening that the date would be able to recover.

“I trust you, but we should probably get going then.” Butters gulped. His face was flushed and it felt like his heart was trying to break its way out of his chest by giving his sternum that same high five fifty times a second. Kenny realized that he was now faced with a “now or never” type of situation. He slowly pulled him in closer and Butters took hold of Kenny’s jacket.

First kisses are never perfect, and Butters’ and Kenny’s was no exception. They were lucky to not miss the target of each other’s mouths, but even then, teeth clashed, noses collided, and Butters inhaled too quickly and ended up choking on his own spit resulting in a near five-minute coughing fit. Even so, Kenny still claimed that it was nothing short of absolute magic.

At some point that night, they ended up at an old herbal medicine shop just on the outskirts of South Park. The place was in complete disrepair, apparently after the town shunned the shopkeeper out of Park County, the place had been foreclosed on and subsequently looted. Kenny didn’t take him there for the historical significance, believe it or not, he was there because in the back of the shop lived a very special fortune teller. He was a gypsy nomad who came from a faraway land, and Kenny swore by his mystical powers, saying that his fortunes were indisputably accurate. They made it to the back room and Kenny whisked off the tarp covering what looked like some kind of old-fashioned arcade game. Once he started clearing the dust, Butters could clearly read the name Zoltar at the top of the machine. Kenny could hardly contain his excitement, and Butters practically melted at the sight of that gap-toothed smile that was beaming his way.

“I brought about $30.00 worth of quarters. So what do you say? Wanna know what your future holds?” Kenny asked, proudly holding up the sock filled with change.

“If his fortunes are always true, why would we need that much?” Butters was trying his best to flirt, and his date was absolutely eating it up.

“Well just in case he says something you don’t like. There’s a ritual, you see, if you want to change the future he gave you, you have to go outside, burn the card and give him a humble offering.” He said as he stepped closer to Butters and put a hand on his waist.

“Let me guess, a quarter?”

“Damn, you’re good. You just might put old Zoltar here out of business.” Kenny chuckled and offered the sock to him. Butters couldn’t help to notice that the sock looked brand new, and Kenny likely bought it specifically to hold that change for their date. “You go first, I wanna know what he has to tell you.”

Butters hesitantly reached into the sock and grabbed a coin before grabbing Kenny’s hand and pulling him to the machine. He dropped the coin into the slot and looked over at his date who was eagerly waiting in anticipation.

“Together.” Butters insisted, putting Kenny’s hand with his own on the knob.

Together they turned and Zoltar came to life. The machine was definitely run down and hardly functional, the audio consisted of nothing more than two notes of a tune then a long flat tone, his hand moved toward the crystal ball and then back to his original position. Butters was disappointed, it seemed that the machine wasn’t going to work after all. Kenny grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Wait for it…” He murmured and sure enough, a canary yellow card popped out of the slot.

Butters couldn’t help himself, he jumped to grab it and quickly read over the fortune on the back. He could immediately feel his face growing hotter and he knew he must have been blushing like a whore in church. Kenny looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“Well how about that, it looks like you’re stuck with me.” Kenny remarked quietly.

Butters kept that card with him at all times since that night. When they got back, he was obviously grounded and the hickeys Kenny left him doubled his sentence from two to four months, but he couldn’t care less. In his pocket, he held the future, and even though they were so new and so young, he and Kenny were going to make it through. They were going to make it through anything and everything, the great and mysterious Zoltar told them so with that little yellow card.

 

_**"You are destined to be together forever."** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having way too much fun writing this one, thank you for sticking with me. 
> 
> The next chapter may possibly contain some smut, which would obviously change the rating from M to Explicit. But! It can go either way, so please if you're following this story leave a comment or shoot me a message letting me know if that's something you'd like with an "Aye!" for smut or a "Nay" to keep it clean. 
> 
> If its a no, I'll probably upload the explicit version of the chapter as a separate work for anyone that's interested, but it may come later, we'll see!


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